It Starts With A Dance

It Starts With A Dance

Chapter 3: Thank Merlin It's Friday. . . Not


Hermione woke up sore Friday morning. Her midnight traipsing around the castle had obviously had an effect on her sleep, and her back and knees were screaming at her, a result of her Auror training and battle experience. Her conversation with Neville had unnerved her, though: who else would be around in ghostly form, friends or foes?


Hermione trudged to a shower and bathed in a hot stream that left her red as a lobster before she hopped out and toweled herself off briskly. She was putting her underclothes on when Neville's head popped into her room.


"Hey, 'Mion~ hey, Hermione," Neville teased, taking in her semi-naked form and loitering.


"Neville, out. You shouldn't use your 'condition' for evil, you lech," Hermione said, throwing a sock at him.


Neville withdrew from her room and waited by her door. "I'm here to escort you to breakfast. Which you've almost missed, Miss," he yelled through the door.


Hermione slipped her stockings on and secured them in a plain garter belt before stepping into a knee-length black skirt; a camel-coloured cashmere sweater and high-heeled loafers completed the outfit. Hermione grabbed her robes from a hanger near her door and let herself through the door, shutting it tight behind her. She'd be coming back soon to move her things to her faculty quarters, anyways.


"There, alright?" Hermione said, doing a little twirl for Neville. "Let's go."


"Ladies first," Neville bowed as Hermione walked ahead of him. "What class are you teaching, exactly?"


"Well, between the two of us, I believe Tonks and I are splitting the Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. But I'll find out exactly how everything is working out at breakfast. I bet all the girls will want extra help in Herbology from the very beginning."


Neville laughed. "I doubt it. My most upper-level students will remember me from our time together at Hogwart's."


Hermione groaned. "Me, too. I wonder how many times I'll have to give detention to Slytherins who insist on calling me 'Professor Mudblood' before Snape comes after me for 'targeting' his House."


"I'm sure he'll overlook it with the right diversion," Neville waggled his eyebrows at Hermione. The two passed their walk to the Great Hall with the same sort of banter, each almost forgetting that one would never age, ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


"Yes, and I remember that you showed up with the gillyweed right after Dobby had given Harry a lump of it!" Hermione laughed as Neville helped her to her seat.


"I've always wondered what it would be like to give detention to a dead student," Severus Snape hissed at Neville, who straightened up and glared right back at him.


"Unfortunately for you, Severus, I'm no longer your student. You have the extreme good fortune of addressing Professor Neville Longbottom," Neville said, his chest puffed out.


"Ah, yes, Professor Longbottom. So, as a professor and a gentleman, you'll pull Professor Granger's chair out for her?" Snape said, an evil glint in his eye as he almost smiled.


Neville stiffened. Looking down at his friend, Neville knew that he couldn't muster enough energy to become solid enough to grab Hermione's chair. He looked from Snape to Hermione and back again before he left without another word.


Snape reached for Hermione's chair and she snatched it from him angrily.


"That was so uncalled for, Snape. It is sheer dumb luck that he is a ghost and you a man," Hermione growled angrily, slamming her butt into the chair as she tugged it in close to the table. Snape sat next to her and she glared at him.


"As my colleague, you may address me as Professor Snape or Severus. Otherwise, you may not address me at all," Snape hissed at Hermione, his face dangerously close to hers.


"I'm so glad to see you two have reacquainted yourselves to one another. I trust that you'll help Hermione in her new position, Severus?" Minerva McGonagall walked by the pair as she headed for her own seat as Headmistress.


Hermione sighed and turned her gaze to her as yet empty plate. Severus contemplated her for a few moments as he thought on how Minerva had phrased the entire idea.


He was going to enjoy helping Hermione into many positions.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Hermione and Tonks had finally worked everything out. For the time being, Hermione would teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes while Tonks took over the Transfiguration classes. Oliver Wood had taken time from his quidditch career to come back and replace Madam Hooch, another casualty in the war. In fact, many former students were winging in from different parts to help out. Luna Lovegood would be helping Professors Trelawney and the different centaur aids in divination; Draco Malfoy had been hired as a supplementary potions professor while Crabbe and Goyle were the new grounds-keepers and caretakers, as Filch had been wounded in an attack on the school and therefore could do very little without much help.


Hermione looked around the tables full of staff and felt that it should have been her and Ron sharing the DADA classes, Harry teaching flying and sponsoring the quidditch teams with Ginny. Hermione loved her other friends and she tolerated her former mortal enemies, but she knew what Hogwart's could have been had the Quad stayed. But here she was, sitting in between Severus Snape and Oliver Wood, potions master and possibly the most handsome professional quidditch player. Ron had never really wanted to play professionally; becoming Aurors had been so much more important.


"Hermione, where is everyone else?" Oliver whispered to her, eyeing Snape, who was surveying his former students and sighing, muttering something about how they couldn't manage to be decent students, so how could they be decent teachers?


"They went to the States, I believe," Hermione said quietly. "I decided to honor my commitments and stay here."


"It was good of you to stay, Hermione. We need good teachers, and as an Auror, you are quite competent to teach DADA," Oliver said with a smile, which made Hermione smile. "Ah, that's good to see. I've heard that the Hermione smile has been a nearly-extinct species in recent times."


"You've been playing quidditch professionally. Viktor hasn't seen me, so who'd have told you that?" Hermione said, a slight bit of anger creeping into her voice.


"Ron."


"Ah, so he asked you to keep an eye on me, did he? Did he tell you to tie my shoes as well?" Hermione said, her voice rising in volume and climbing in pitch. "Anything else you'd care to tell me, like perhaps Ginny wants you to club me over the head and apparate me to wherever the hell they are?"


Snape began to take an interest in the conversation when Oliver put his hand on Hermione's thigh as he spoke in an even lower voice.


"I asked Ron about you. I hadn't heard anything about you from Harry or Viktor, and I wanted to know what kind of situation I'd be getting into when I arrived," Oliver said, and his words calmed Hermione. His hand stayed on her knee, and Hermione found the sensation both thrilling and a little strange. Oliver was cute, but she had always thought of him as more of a big brother or something like that.


Oliver smiled wider when Hermione didn't remove his hand from her thigh.


"Dinner tonight?"


Without thinking, Hermione looked from Oliver to Snape, who was staring intently into her eyes.


"Are you asking my permission, Hermione?" he asked, his voice deadly soft.


Hermione grunted at Snape and turned to Oliver with a smile. "Sure, it is always something to catch up on old times with old friends."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Neville hadn't shown up again until Hermione was in her room shrinking her things so she could transport them to her faculty quarters easier. He was floating around the room when Hermione finally threw her hands up and began addressing him in a not-too-friendly way.


"Either pull yourself together and help me, or find someone who can help me," Hermione glared in Neville's general direction.


"Fine. I'll find you some help. Merlin, she must be on the rag," Neville muttered as he floated out of Hermione's room. She glared after him and he tossed back, "Ollie, oh Ollie, where are you?"


Hermione rolled her eyes and continued sorting things. Surely she hadn't unpacked so much when she'd arrived, because she knew she'd be moving shortly. But perhaps she'd underestimated her belongings.


"You wanted some help, but I never imagined you'd invite me to your rooms," a silky voice drawled into Hermione's room, sending a shiver down her spine.


"I didn't. Neville offered to find me some help. I wasn't expecting you," Hermione said, turning to face Severus Snape, the man who'd danced with her so long ago. Viktor Krum had been so impressed with her grace that he hadn't even noticed Hermione had been observing the Potions Master during that Yule Ball so long ago. "Are you here to help?"


"If you insist," Snape said, pointing his wand at Hermione's belongings, apparating them to her new quarters. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for your date?"


"It is not a date. I'm having dinner with Oliver so we can catch up on old times, share common experiences. Rather like you do when you visit the Reptile Room at the zoo."


"That was uncalled for, Hermione."


"So was what you said to Neville earlier. Karma, Severus. Karma."


"If it isn't a date, that you won't mind my tagging along, will you?"


"Of course not. I owe you another dance, if I recall correctly."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Hermione took care not to overdo her clothes or makeup for the night, as she was intent on toning Oliver down. Low-waisted boot-cut jeans and a scarlet v-neck sweater over her favorite high-heeled, high-rise boots were perfect for the night, but as she locked up her new quarters, Snape showed up, dressed in clothes not unlike the ones he wore during that first dance.


"If you intend on dancing, surely you must wear something fit for dancing," he said, eyeing her outfit before hitting her jeans with a spell. The denims became a short black flared skirt and the boots became higher-heeled t-strap black pumps. "That's better. But perhaps the boots could have stayed. . ."


Hermione glared at him. "Are you satisfied? Can we go? I'll be late." ~And you're a dirty old man,~ she thought to herself.


Severus offered her an arm and Hermione took it warily; as her hand closed on Severus's arm, he apparated them to Madam Rosmerta's, which the proprietress had transformed in the short time since Hermione had last been there. The inside was larger than before, with a dance floor set in the middle and booths and tables at the fringes.


Oliver was sitting at a small table in a corner, watching the barmaids as he waited for Hermione. He didn't know Severus had tagged along, either. Hermione wasn't looking forward to Oliver realizing the fact, either.


"Hermione!" Oliver said, turning to her and rising from his feet. "Severus."


"You said we'd be remembering, remember?" Hermione said, trying to smile as she wrenched herself from Severus's grip. "I figured since Professor Snape was there, too, his tagging along wouldn't be a problem."


"Severus," Severus corrected Hermione, who almost blushed.


"Severus, I think~" Oliver began, but Severus cut him off.


"Professor Snape," he corrected Oliver.


"Fine. Have a seat," Oliver waved to the booth. Severus all but shoved Hermione into the booth before he sat next to her, on the end. "Lovely. Drinks."


"Firewhiskey," Severus and Hermione said at the same time.


"Ladies drink wines and pale ales, not whiskey," Severus admonished Hermione.


"Then it's a good thing I'm just a bloody Gryffindor and not a lady," Hermione tossed back. The drinks came and Hermione bolted hers. Severus did the same and Oliver made sure all their drinks kept coming.


Hours later, Oliver was completely smashed. Hermione and Severus, however, had been careful and were only slightly buzzed by the time Rosmerta was starting to send patrons home. The band was playing its last few songs and Oliver smiled drunkenly at Hermione, who leaned away from him and his breath.


"Shall I see you home, Hermione?" Oliver asked stupidly, trying unsuccessfully to rise from his seat.


"Uhm," Hermione said, searching for a tactful retreat.


"The lady owes me a dance, Oliver. We'll see you tomorrow," Severus said, his arms coming protectively around Hermione. Oliver glared at Severus before he lumbered off home.


"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said, watching to make sure Oliver had left. "I think he drank tonight because he finally realizes that all our memories are just that ~ memories."


"Not everything is just a memory, Hermione," Severus said, standing and offering Hermione his hand. "Our dance wasn't a memory, and you do still owe me another one."


Hermione took Severus's hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor, as he had so any years ago. They caught the rhythm of the music and soon they were moving in perfect harmony.


"I never got to thank you properly, for teaching me to dance like that, and for protecting me and saving me as well. I think I knew that night that chivalry wasn't dead after all," Hermione sighed as she let Severus guide her around the floor.


"Chivalry is all but dead, Hermione. And this will be thanks enough," Severus said, leaning down to capture her mouth in a hot kiss that stole her breath away. His tongue shoved into her mouth, and she tasted firewhiskey on him. His tongue was hot and hard, yet soft and silky unlike anything else. The kiss started off hard but faded to a soft whisper that Hermione had never felt before, with a few little nips that she appreciated. When the kiss broke, Hermione's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and Severus smirked quickly at the impression he'd made on her.


"What was that for?" Hermione whispered, not looking at into his eyes, afraid of what was going on.


"As I said, it was thanks for the lesson and the rescue long ago. But perhaps not too long ago. Mr. Wood was acting quite strangely, don't you think?" Severus switched subjects so quickly, Hermione thought she'd get whiplash.


"What do you mean, exactly?" Hermione said cautiously, not sure where the conversation was heading.


"Has Mr. Wood ever shown any interest in you before, Hermione? I saw how you reacted to him at breakfast this morning, and it seemed to be a new occurrence, correct me if I'm wrong? All those years at Hogwart's and after he left and could have sent word, or come back. . ."


"Are you implying that there is no way any man could harbor any feeling for me, save Ron's teenage crush or Harry's familial affections?" Hermione's voice was shaking, and she couldn't believe the words she'd heard coming from Severus's mouth.


Severus knew quite to the contrary, as he'd often fought his urges while watching over Hermione and the rest of her friends at Grimmauld Place or any of the other hideouts they'd frequented. "Surely that's not what I intended you to hear, Hermione, but what I'm trying to say is that something else may be at work here."


"Oh, so now 'something' is making Oliver take an interest in me?" Hermione said angrily, finally managing to wrench herself from his grip.


"Must you be so dense, girl?" Severus growled as he led her back to a booth that had been vacated. "Mr. Wood has always held you in some regard, as Harry himself does, but the interest he is showing now is a dangerous interest. An unnatural interest."


Hermione snorted. "And the kiss on the dance floor was natural?"


Severus froze, his face paling. His eyes locked on hers with a hawk's intensity. Even completely smashed, each knew the other's weak spot. "As natural as your return."


Hermione chewed her lip for moment. "Point. Moving on. What do you think is going on with Oliver, then?"


"He's giving off a strangely acrid odor, one that he shouldn't be giving off. It reminds me of an old potion, one we don't teach at Hogwart's, or rather, that I've never taught at Hogwart's, because of the side affects," Severus said thoughtfully.


"And this potion would be what? A lust potion, or a personality enhancing potion, or . . . I don't even know," Hermione said, shuddering at the thought that Oliver's real personality would be like what she'd already experienced, or maybe even more so.


"I'll do some research. For now, try not to be alone with him. Get Neville to escort you to classes or something like that while I try to figure everything out," Severus had a suspicion as to which potion had been used, but he had to find out who had administered it if he wanted to actually fix the situation.


"But you saw that Neville couldn't even pull my chair out for me this morning. I noticed you didn’t offer to, either," Hermione mused, relaxing against Severus in the booth. Neither of them realized that the source of their troubles could see them quite clearly from his vantage point.


"And how would that have looked to the rest of the staff, especially Tonks, who is probably feeding information straight to Ron and Harry?" Severus said, slipping an arm around Hermione. "Would you like me to get your chair for you at every meal, now?"


Hermione blushed and squirmed a little bit under the intense scrutiny of Severus's gaze. "I don't think that would be appropriate, do you?"


"No. But I can escort you back to the castle, now, and I can do what I can to find out what is going on with Mr. Wood."


Hermione smiled a wee smile and shoved Severus out of the booth. "You do have to address him as 'Professor', you know."


"I know."


"Neville, too."


"Damn."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*